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Chapter 2
Jude
“YOU ARROGANT SON OF A...”
The mental image of my grandmother's scandalized face, if she overheard my muffled grumblings, almost made me chuckle. But even that couldn't yank me out of my incredibly foul mood.
My heart raced as the perilous drive heightened my anxiety levels to their peak.
Straining to see through the windshield, the wipers seemed almost defiant, doing a poor job against the snow’s onslaught.
Why had I procrastinated on replacing them? Now, they seemed more a partner to the snow than to me, turning my vision into a foggy haze.
The GPS, once so sure of a breezy one-hour journey, mocked me as the drive prolonged into a draining two hours. And still, another daunting ten miles awaited.
I felt the cold seep in, my fingers white from the vice-like grip on the wheel, tension evident in every tightened muscle.
Navigating my SUV further from Denver’s lively pulse, the cacophony of city life began to fade. In its place, nature’s grandeur emerged. The road meandered between majestic, snow-draped mountains and expansive forests, their trees stretching skyward as if seeking the divine.
I had to take a deep breath, bringing myself back to the present.
As I ascended, snowflakes danced with greater fervor, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.
The alternating vistas of frosted pines and jagged peaks inspired awe.
A cocktail of trepidation and thrill surged within as I navigated the snow-laden path to a hidden cabin. Set deep within the woods, it was a world away from the city's ceaseless beat.
For all the day's unpredicted hurdles, the allure of the landscape was irresistible.
Next to me, Sadie, my oasis of serenity, emitted a concerned whine.
She felt my apprehension.
Always in tune. My dearest Sadie.
“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.” A sudden jolt.
The SUV gave a treacherous lurch sideways, and my heart did a wild gymnastic routine in my chest. I wrestled with the steering wheel, muttering every prayer and forgotten promise to the universe.
Once the tires caught grip, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
Dr. Montivais, there better be a full-blown orchestra of appreciation playing in that goddamn cabin when I walk in,I fumed internally.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror.
If looks could kill, the good doctor would soon be a forever frozen ice statue courtesy of my frosty expression.
The snow danced in wild, theatrical twirls as I tackled the final bends of the drive. Up ahead, the warm glow of the cabin's lights beckoned like a beacon in a snow globe world.
I nudged the car as close to the porch as it would go.
Bracing myself, I wrestled into my coat and jammed my fingers into gloves.
Lifting my eyes to the cabin, I was momentarily disarmed by its rustic allure.
Nestled in a snowy clearing, it was flanked by chattering pines, their branches heavy with winter's decoration.
The cabin, reminiscent of a scene from a Hallmark holiday card, had an aged wooden facade that hinted at tales of yesteryears, while a stone chimney promised cozy fireside moments inside. And those windows, simple yet heartwarming, showcased lanterns that painted the snowstorm with touches of golden luminescence.
